On The Path
by TheEpitomeofSarcasm
Summary: She had seen nothing of the world and so when the Strider and the hobbits offer her a chance to travel with them, she grabs at it eagerly. But she certainly never expected... this! NOT a MarySue, Legolas/OC, NOT a tenth walker.
1. Chapter 1

**Full summary – Lúthien knows no life outside of the farm in Bree, but with the arrival of wraiths comes adventure in the form of a dark stranger who calls himself 'Strider' and four hobbits. She travels with them to Rivendell where she is left with a choice... to pursue her gift further and travel onwards to Lothlorien, or to return to her normal life.**

**Firstly, Lúthien will NOT be a Mary Sue, simply because it is not my style. She will not be incredibly beautiful or especially smart, she will just be different.**

**Secondly, I have a habit of not sticking with my stories. If you looked on my profile you'd know. However, I have actuallly started planning this out so we may make it to the finish line. Wow.**

**Thirdly, yes, this is ****stuff with Legolas/OC because I adore him. It may be cliché but I'm having a go at it. **

**Fourth, PLEASE REVIEW! It really does mean a lot to me and it will boost my metabolism… haha, not really.**

**Enjoy!**

_**Prologue**_

Lúthien was special.

Although, no one would have thought so.

"Feed those pigs _now_, girl, or you shall be fed to them yourself!"

Lúthien was jerked rudely from her slumber mid-snore as Ma Smith's loud yell reached her.

Blinking sleepily, she tried to recall what she had been asked – demanded – to do.

Ah, yes – "Pigs, pigs, feed the pigs – again?"

Nevertheless, Lúthien rolled out of the bale of hay she had been lying in, attempting in vain to regain the hours of sleep lost being ordered around by her… employer. Not a day went by when Ma Smith forgot to remind her how her drunk of a father and good-for-nothing mother had bargained her off for two horses and a loaf of bread.

And so she was left on Fargo Farm with a bossy widower and her two older sons, forced to work to pay off her parents' debt long after Ma Smith could afford to buy another _three_ horses and a chicken.

She picked up the bucket of mealworms left by the door and lazily wandered over to the pigs.

"Hello girls," she murmured to the two hogs.

"And feed the chickens while you're out there!"

Indentured servitude… it never got old.

Rubbing down the pigs she commented, "Do you think that she has a sickness… one that kills her if she works?"

The pig snorted as if laughing and turned to look at her. Lúthien stared back.

"Favourite pig," she announced to no-one as she snuck him some extra food.

Indeed, no one thought Lúthien was special… at least, not yet.


	2. Chapter 2

**Hello!**

**I was astonished to see the reviews I received on the first chapter, as short as it may be.**

**Thank you!**

**That was only the prologue, so more lengthy chapters are yet to come!**

**Enjoy!**

_**Chapter 1**_

* * *

A short, plump woman with a permanent scowl on her face appeared in the doorway of the kitchen where a young girl of 19 sat, absently cleaning the floor.

"I need some water," she snapped without prologue, "My poor Angus has cut himself and I need to wash it for him, lest it get infected."

Here she paused and eyed the girl expectantly.

"Well, don't just sit there, you useless cow! Go and get some!"

With a flourish the woman turned on her heel sharply and left the room, slamming the door behind her.

"Why could she not have just asked?" Lúthien muttered, walking to the cloakroom where her shabby cloak hung on a lone hook.

She glanced outside and sighed. It was past midnight and a long stroll to the other side of Bree to the well was not on the very top of Lúthien's to-do list. But she could not disobey Ma Smith. The well bucket lay on the first step beside the door.

It was especially cold tonight, though it was only late September. She shivered and briskly left the farm's boundaries.

She was halfway there when she was briefly stopped by Old Harry, the gatekeeper, who was slouching on his chair on the inside of the gate.

"Oi, Missy," he called over to her, "Shouldn't you be at home? It ain't safe for a lass like you at this time of night."

"If I had my way, I would be lazing in front of the fire this very moment," Lúthien replied playfully, "As it is, I need some water."

Old Harry dipped his head, "I won't keep you then."

Lúthien smiled sympathetically at him as she passed. It appeared as though Old Harry had had a rough day. He was weary and his back was aching from the constant moving around. Old Harry was nearing his 77th year and his lumbago had been troubling him since his 50th. His wife once had a remedy, but as she had passed away, the remedy went with her.

She wouldn't tell him she knew this though. As Ma Smith sent her to fetch water everyday so she was well acquainted with the old man by now. He was easily irritable, but if caught on a good day he could almost be nice to converse with. Lúthien did not want to ruin that.

A great rumbling noise was heard from the other side of the gate, one that sent chills running down Lúthien's spine. It sounded as if there were horsemen, lots of them, with no intention of slowing down. She walked faster and was level with the popular pub, _The Prancing Pony_, when she heard Old Harry open the little hatch to the small window.

_Crash!_

Creatures, horrid creatures surrounded by darkness, rode over the gate. Their ragged, black cloaks covered their faces, and armour encased their entire body. Long, broad swords hung at their waists with the addition of many daggers. They looked like vultures, astride great, black horses who looked no less evil than they did. She was terrified. They had _killed_ Old Harry.

The one creature at the front released a high scream and Lúthien felt all the hair on her back stand up as she sagged against the wall, fist in her mouth.

She could _feel_ their evil, their misery, their longing… She could _see _how they were once great men, but their rings… their rings, controlling them, using them, until they were sucked away into the darkness. It flashed before her eyes… their sad, miserable existance…

Suddenly, a hand grabbed her by the shoulder and pulled her roughly inside. It continued to drag her across the bar and up the stairs, hurrying along the corridor until banging open the door to a room, where she was pushed inside.

She turned to face the man with the hand.

* * *

Aragorn looked out of his window, watching the gates intently.

They were close. Very close.

The gates were suddenly knocked down, and the Nazgûl wasted no time riding over them. The gatekeeper was most certainly dead.

A flurry of movement caught his eye and he looked almost directly down. It was a girl, one whose life was still plentiful and long – but abruptly it would end. Aragorn looked closely at the girl, who was shivering in fear against the pub wall. He could tell there was more to her than a farm life.

"I'll be back," he promised the hobbits, who had gone to sleep long ago.

He slipped out of the room stealthily and hurried along to the door of the pub. He braced himself and put a steady hand on the doorknob. Quick as a flash, the door opened, the girl was in, the door closed. But there was no time to waste. The Wraiths were still just outside.

When they reached the room, the girl had hardly relaxed and turned to look at him in fright.

She was pretty, he supposed. She had bright, curly red hair that shot in every direction until it reached her waist and big green eyes. The freckles on her cheeks were covered up slightly by the thin layer of grime that settled on her body. He noticed that she was short, standing at least a foot below him and very thin.

"Who are you?" she asked, eying him apprehensively.

"I am Strider," Aragorn replied gravely.

The girl looked at him disbelievingly and stared at him for a few moments.

After a moment of awkward silence she finally said, "My name is Lúthien."

* * *

The man before her was not a great brute, as she had expected, but rather a lean middle-aged man with a shrewd look.

But this man had saved her life… and for that she was forever in his debt.

Lúthien knew his real name was not 'Strider'. He was Aragorn, son of Arathorn II and Gilraen. He was Ilsildur's heir… and a Ranger from the North. And who was this Arwen, who had captured his heart so?

But she could not tell her saviour that.

She could not tell anyone.

"What _were_ they?" Lúthien asked the man, unable to keep the note of terror out of her voice.

"They are the Nazgûl… Ringwraiths," he replied simply before expanding.

"They are Sauron's most feared servants."

They sat in silence as Lúthien tried to calm. Ringwraiths… she never wanted to encounter them again.

After a while, Lúthien noticed four figures sleeping in the beds provided. Hobbits… the word suddenly came to her.

"Who are they?" she asked Aragorn.

"They are just children," he lied, "They are fast asleep and I am afraid you will not meet them for it is of the utmost importance that you return to your home at dawn."

Lúthien stared at him again. Why would he lie? Were the hobbits important?

"Your name…" he broke the silence, "It is quite unusual."

"Is it?" she replied.

"Yes. It belongs in a story."

"Why are there hobbits in this room?" Lúthien couldn't help herself, curiosity had gotten the best of her, but she regretted it as soon as the words flew out of her mouth seeing Aragorn's eyes widen.

"Keep your voice down," he hissed, peering out of the window. The wraiths had approached the room across the street where they believed the hobbits to be.

Turning back to Lúthien he said, "How do you know?"

She searched for an excuse, but finding none, stayed silent.

"Who are you?" Aragorn asked her.

"I am no-one," she whispered, "I work for a women who is holding me in debt. I have no friends. I have seen none but men and animals."

"No, you are not no-one," Aragorn argued, "How did you know?"

Lúthien looked up at him pleadingly and begged, "Please, do not tell anyone. They will call me witch, accuse me of working for the enemy, banish me from the town!"

"You have my word," Aragorn promised.

"I know," Lúthien whispered, "That is it, I _know. Everything_."

Aragorn frowned, "What do you mean?"

"You, who have seen so many and much… You are Aragorn, Isildur's heir… son of Arathorn… lover of Arwen…"

"Stop," he demanded, "You have said too much."

"Don't tell anyone," Lúthien whispered, "It will be my ruin."

"How do you… do that?" he questioned.

"It comes to me, words that are whispered in my head… I have always had it and once a novelty, it now comes as nothing but a danger."

"Tell me more," Aragorn urged.

"I can see through lies," Lúthien continued, "Intentions are clear to me and I can tell you everything about a person by looking into their eyes. It scares me, though after nineteen years it is quite easy to push it aside, ignore the information."

Silence.

"You will accompany me tomorrow… we are to go to Rivendell," Aragorn declared, "There, we will find answers, for the elves are indeed knowledgeble." He looked at her, "You may be of great use."

He turned back to the window.

* * *

The Ringwraiths unsheathed their swords and stood at the foot of the beds. They aimed them high… ready to plow down… victory was near…

Their master would be pleased… and the ring would be theirs….

Together, their swords sliced through air, the ringing of them fatal to any mortal…

_Where were the hobbits… the Baggins boy…._

These were not the beds of hobbits, but of pillows and feathers….

The Nine screeched in anger… The hobbits had gone…

But not for long… no one can run for long… not from a Nazgûl…

* * *

Across the street, Frodo Baggins shot from sleep, sweat marring his brow and fright in his thoughts.

The Strider sat deep in thought as he watched the Ringwraiths discover his trickery.

The three hobbits snored happily, blissfully ignorant of all that was around them.

Lúthien imagined Rivendell… she was going to meet the elves.

* * *

**So I'm updating early… savour this moment!**

**I think this chapter was a little dark, but at least now you know about Lúthien's gift. And yes, there is a little importance in her name. If you've read the Simarillion or have a vast knowledge of JRR Tolkien, you know the story of Beren and Lúthien. **

_**SNEAK PEAK FOR A FUTURE CHAPTER!**_

"You need a weapon," Aragorn told Lúthien.

"Probably, you know, since I've almost been killed a few times,"she shrugged playfully.

Aragorn ignored her, "Can you shoot?"

"Shoot what?" Lúthien asked, confused.

"Nevermind," Aragorn muttered, "Can you wield a sword?"

"Nope."

"Dagger?"

"Nope."

"Axe?"

"One moment, let me get my trusty axe from my pocket… I've got some pretty mean moves with this thing," Lúthien remarked sarastically.

"Can you fight with anything?" Aragorn asked, exasperated.

"Yeah… I've got a kitchen knife… I'm a fighting machine with that in hand."

Aragorn glared at her, "You're not helping."

Lúthien smiled coyly, "I didn't think so."

**What did you think?**

**Please REVIEW it means a lot to me and constructive critism is always appreciated… it gives me a chance to IMPROVE!**

**Thank you!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hello! Thank you so much for all the reviews I got, it was like… wow! When I saw them!**

**Here's the second chapter, hope it's not too boring, but I tried to make it a little bit amusing. At the end, there's going to be a big time jump into the next chapter... just saying.**

**Enjoy!**

"We shall rest here for the night," Aragorn announced to the weary travellers behind him.

Lúthien groaned in relief and almost collapsed where she stood in relief.

They had been walking all day, setting out at dawn and not stopping once until dusk. Two of the hobbits, Merry and Pippin she believed, were astonished at the fact that not everybody had the need to eat six or seven times a day. Their playful banter and merry ways had endeared them to Lúthien and she wished they could soon become friends.

It would not have been easy, she thought, to trust someone who had mysteriously appeared in the middle of the night. The hobbits, Frodo and Sam in particular, had demanded to know why a common maiden would travel with them and Merry and Pippin had not been exactly welcoming. They were careful and suspicious and Lúthien could hardly blame them.

Aragorn had not explained in detail, but merely told them she was accompanying them to Rivendell, as she needed the Elves' assistance and could be of possible use to them. In return, Aragorn had only said that a dark object had come into their possession and they required counsel.

Both tales were bland, lacking in description and detail, but ignited curiosity in both parties.

As they travelled, though, Lúthien had begun to receive more information about the small creatures. Her curiosity was soon satiated as she learned the truth of their quest to Rivendell and admired the loyalty of the three to their obvious leader, Frodo.

Now, _he _was an interesting character and Lúthien had taken pains to try to harness her 'gift' in order to find out more about him. From time to time she had fallen silent and distant to concentrate.

Sam eagerly started fishing out pots and pans from his heavy pack along with several items of food.

"I imagine you two are hungry," he said to Merry and Pippin, "I'd safely bet you've never gone this long in your life without a full meal."

"We haven't," Pippin replied, "And I don't fancy doing it again."

Lúthien sniggered and plonked herself on the ground, eying Sam as he lit a fire. She too was starving.

"You're going to have to," Aragorn told Pippin, "We are several days away from Rivendell."

Pippin's eyes widened in response, "Oh dear…"

"Indeed," Aragorn replied gravely, though he looked amused.

"I have something for you," he continued, looking at the hobbits. He reached into his own pack and pulled out four small swords, almost mistaken to be large daggers. "Use them wisely and they may save your life."

"You need a weapon," Aragorn told Lúthien as the hobbits marveled over their new weapons.

"Probably, you know, since I've almost been killed a few times," she shrugged playfully.

Aragorn ignored her, "Can you shoot?"

"Shoot what?" Lúthien asked, confused.

"Nevermind," Aragorn muttered, "Can you wield a sword?"

"Nope."

"Dagger?"

"Nope."

"Axe?"

"One moment, let me get my trusty axe from my pocket… I've got some pretty mean moves with this thing," Lúthien remarked sarcastically.

"Can you fight with anything?" Aragorn asked, exasperated.

"Yeah… I've got a kitchen knife… I'm a fighting machine with that in hand."

Aragorn glared at her, "You're not helping."

Lúthien smiled coyly, "I didn't think so."

"You will have to learn," he warned her, "A quest like this should not be taken lightly, nor will it be easy and you will have to fight to save yourself."

Lúthien quickly sobered up.

"You can practice with me for now," Aragorn decided, "I have another sword that should not be too heavy and we may make progress tonight."

Lúthien still lay where she was, staring unblinking at him.

"Well, what are you sitting there for?" Aragorn demanded, "Get up, we can start now." He unsheathed yet another sword from his pack.

How many this man have?

Lúthien gaped at him and scrambled to her feet, "What? But what about the hobbits? Why do they get to rest?" she complained.

"Because they are little and tired and need to get their strength back," Aragorn replied.

"I'm small and tired," Lúthien muttered pathetically under her breath, though she took the offered sword.

"You never know, you may be a natural. And then you may laze around all you wish," Aragorn told her.

However, as soon as Aragorn released his hold on the weapon, she staggered under the weight and held the handle tightly with both hands as the point dragged in the dirt.

Aragorn watched her with a strange, almost hopeless expression in his eyes, "Perhaps not."

He raised his own sword and advanced upon her.

"First things first," he instructed, "You must raise the sword off the ground."

/

One hour later and a beautiful stew was simmering in its pot, courtesy of Sam and Merry and Pippin had taken to sitting around it and looking at its contents greedily.

Frodo and Sam talked quietly, but light-heartedly nearby, occasionally looking over to their fellow hobbits and to their new companions.

Said new companions were grumpy, frustrated and irritable. Though Aragorn had initially harboured some hope that the girl in front of him would possess another great talent, this time concerning swords, it had soon been taken care of within the first five minutes.

"Stop, stop!" he had yelled, "One cannot fight without moving _or with their eyes closed_!"

Lúthien cracked open an eyelid to glare at Aragorn, "I thought I had been doing quite well."

Aragorn stared at her with his eyebrows raised, "You seem to be sadly mistaken." He did not like to admit defeat, but she was… hopeless.

However, at the end of the hour, Lúthien had improved, though very slightly. She had managed to open her eyes, hold the sword in one hand with the correct posture and stopped flinching every time Aragorn moved.

They hadn't even started fighting.

"That will do for tonight," he told her, "I will go and scout. Keep the hobbits company… and stay sharp."

Lúthien had nodded and watched as her small companions dug into the treat Sam had cooked up. They had offered her some of the stew and she gratefully accepted it.

Time passed and Aragorn had yet to return. The sky was growing dark and Frodo had drifted into sleep. The hobbits talked amongst themselves and invited Lúthien into the conversation. They talked of the Shire and of its beauty. Sam, in particular, was extremely attached to the small town.

"Have you ever been?" Merry asked curiously.

"No, but I will have to visit once I am finished with Rivendell," Lúthien said wistfully, "It sounds wonderful."

"Come in Spring," Sam advised, "The flowers are blooming, the sun is brighter… everything is peaceful."

"Oh, I will," she promised cheerfully, "But only if you take me on a guided tour."

Merry and Pippin eagerly agreed to this but Sam said nothing and looked down.

"What is it, Sam?" Lúthien asked carefully, "Am I not welcome in your home?" she added teasingly.

"No, of course…" Sam shook his head, "I don't think I'll ever see the Shire again… it's just a feeling I have, but I don't think I'll return to see Spring. At least, not this year."

The group was silent after Sam's little speech as none knew what to say. But it was Sam himself who broke the silence.

"I'm hungry again," he announced, "I've got some sausages if you start a fire."

Lúthien nodded and gathered some branches and sticks and tried to ignore that silly voice in the back of her head that told her this was _not _a good idea.

/

I knew this wasn't a good idea, Lúthien berated herself as she and her companions scrambled up the rocks to higher ground.

They were being chased.

By Ringwraiths.

She yelped as she looked behind and saw them gaining. Reaching the top of the small mountain, she unsteadily unsheathed her sword. It wobbled in her hand for a moment, stuck in the scabbard.

"Oh, don't do this to me," Lúthien muttered as she finally managed to pull it out completely, "Right. Okay. Hands, hands… yes, that's right… left foot behind right foot… weight on balls of left foot… sword out… I'm going to fall over… I'm going to die…"

The hobbits, with their own especially light swords looked to have no problem with actually holding the things, though they merely stood there looking to face the enemy straight on.

"_We're_ going to die," she amended.

The black riders approached slowly, as if knowing they were cornered. They easily knocked the hobbits back and turned to face Lúthien, who was the last obstacle in front of Frodo.

Their leader, with a great swing, knocked the sword out of her hands and sent her flying backwards. She was no better than the hobbits had been and could do no more but watch as Frodo stumbled back, tripped… and disappeared when he slipped on a gold ring.

The wraiths looked furious and the leader unsheathed another weapon – this time a dagger.

It stood there looking at the empty space where Frodo was until it suddenly plunged it into what would have been Frodo's chest.

But a bright light in the corner of Lúthien's eye caught her attention and she couldn't help but smile slightly.

Aragorn, with his sword drawn – _properly_ – and a torch held high above his head had come to their rescue. Lúthien watched in amazement and fear as he single-handedly defeated all five wraiths smoothly and without breaking a sweat. The last one fell off the edge of the cliff with the fiery torch protruding from its hood.

They all turned to where Frodo lay, now visible. Aragorn quickly hurried towards him and held up the dagger the wraith had used.

He turned towards Lúthien and the hobbits.

"He's been stabbed," Aragorn informed them grimly, "By a Morgul blade."

**Does this count as a cliffhanger? Even though everyone knows what happens?**

**IMPORTANT!**

**Luthien will NOT be a tenth walker. That is decided.**

**She will also NOT be an elf, half elf, of anything else immortal. **

**As you might've guessed, she will also NOT do VERY much in fights because she, well, sucks with swords.**

**You know the picture of the girl with the red hair on the side of this story… yeah, I stumbled upon it and thought, HEY! That's Luthien! So if you want a visual aid, there you go.**

**I will be changing the summary of this story. I think I can make things clearer and a little better.**

**One last thing, there will be a couple of funny LOTR links up on my profile. LOL all you want. **

**REVIEW!**


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